Succubus

This story is copyrighted 2006 by Kaereni, may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author. Visitors to this web site may read or temporarily download pages but are not permitted to modify or re-distribute them.

The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please do not read.

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I was born along what is called the Tigress River in a time before calendars. We were a small tribe. Fishing and hunting game along the river was our way of life, a hard life though simple and uncomplicated. I grew up there, learning the things a woman needed to know; cooking, raising children, tanning hides and gathering the roots that grew in the shallow waters of the delta.

My parents had arranged for me to be joined with a fine young buck of the tribe once I reached maturity, and it was on the very day of our joining that my life was to change forever. While other memories of my past have faded like the mists of morning, this one clings to me still. With the union having been agreed by both families, we were standing before the shaman when a stranger walked into our village.

In the past, whenever strangers had entered our village unbidden they were driven away by our men folk wielding spears, and I fully expected this new stranger, unarmed as he was, to suffer the same fate. Yet instead of driving him away the men of the tribe fell to their knees before him, pressing their foreheads into the dust. Being uneducated, and little more than a child I could only stand and stare in disbelief.

At first I was shocked that he'd been allowed to walk up and interrupt the most important moment of my life. But even that emotion came nowhere close to what I saw happen next. Along with the men of the tribe, the elders also fell to their knees, even the shaman himself. Of the whole tribe I was the only one to remain on their feet as he stopped and looked into my eyes. Pale he was, though with a reddish tinge to his skin that hinted at too long a time spent in the noonday sun.

I could almost feel him reading my life story, as his eyes bored into my very soul, he looked me over not speaking. Without understanding why, I dropped my robes to the ground. I stripped off my shell bracelets, pulled everything from my body, dropping them to the ground until I stood before him bare as a newborn. He gave me a nod of approval before turning and walking out of the village with me trailing behind him like a lost puppy dog. I could no more have resisted his will than stop the great golden spirit from climbing into the sky in the morning.

We traveled many miles that day without rest, without exchanging a single word and it was late evening before we stopped for the night. I couldn't understand what was happening to me, but stepped into the river and washed the ceremonial colored mud from my body, using the sand on the bank to scour it off. Only when I was clean did he touch me for the first time, taking my hand in his, leading me away from the river and laying me on the grassy bank. That night, the night that should have been my wedding night, he took me for the first time and made me his. Never in my whole life had I imagined the act that creates a child could be filled with such pleasures.

And as our lovemaking came to an end, he dug a flint from the soil where we lay and sliced open his finger before holding it to my lips. I reached out my tongue and tasted his blood for the first time. Sweet it was, like honey on the tip of my tongue, it's taste filled me with a strange hunger. We made love throughout the night, only stopping as the darkness fled.

Our days were all the same, walking without a break from dawn to dusk before cleansing our bodies of the dirt picked up from our travels. Our nights were long and full of pleasure. Not once did we stop to eat yet I was never hungry, at least not for food as I had known it. Our nights were spent like the first, furious and passionate lovemaking followed by my sucking gently on his cut finger. Suckling on his blood a drop at a time.

The days flowed together. The cycles of the moon went from full through each of its phases before returning again to full, and each day and night followed the same pattern. On occasion we would pass through villages, whose inhabitants would grovel in the dirt at our feet. The memory of my life before our meeting became unimportant to me, slowly fading from my mind. All that mattered was my god and I walking the world together, the rest seemed as a dream. Not once did he talk to me, not a word was spoken yet somehow I understood his needs and his wants.

It was on the night of a full moon that things began to change. We were making love and, instead of a cut finger to quench my thirst, he offered me his opened wrist. For several minutes I lay quiet, savoring his blood as it flowed like wine into my hungry mouth. When he pulled away and offered me the sharp rock, I knew what I had to do and sliced the stone into my arm as he had done. I expected it to hurt but there was no pain. As the morning came, we lay as one, our bodies locked together, moving in unison and each drinking from the other's wrist.

When we stopped next morning, the sun was high in the sky. His wrist had healed in a matter of minutes and, as we lay side by side, he held his hand over my wrist to stop my blood from flowing away. I fell asleep, and by the time I woke the stars were already swinging overhead. My body was covered in sweat, but instead of being clear and salty, it was red in color. He took my hand and led me to the river where he washed me with a tenderness I'd never felt before.

From that day forward, we would always walk side by side, our hands clasped together. As we walked, he taught me his language, the language of the gods. We talked of many things once I learned his tongue, mankind, his race, his home, and our future together.

At the time I didn't understand the concept behind his words. He talked about how he and his fellows had come to study this place after a great comet had fallen and destroyed the dinosaurs. They were here to watch and study as a new life form rose to the top of the food chain, mammals.

But there had been a problem. Their ship did not return to pick them up, so they waited and studied for another fifty thousand years. To an immortal like him, fifty thousand years was nothing, yet still the ship did not come. One by one, each of his comrades had stopped eating and died, leaving him as the last survivor of his race. Oh, how I cried as he told me his story, to be so alone, with no one to share his loneliness. It was only later that I truly understood the depths of feeling he must have experienced during those long years. Yet when he spoke to me of his world, his eyes brightened and there was a longing and a joy in him that I could feel to my very bones.

We talked of his wanderings and seeking someone to walk beside him as a companion. He told me of how I was the second human he had turned. The first becoming so engrossed in blood and lust she had chose to stay in one place and become a goddess to a tribal city-state. How could she abandon him? Was there no heart in her I wondered? That was the first time I saw true tears and felt his sorrow. That night, instead of him giving me pleasure while we traded blood, I spent it in holding him close as he cried, stroking his hair and loving him with all my heart.

We traveled the world, never in a rush, taking our pleasure from each other. I saw the great wonders of the world as they were being built with my god at my side and I couldn't have been happier, knowing that I would follow him till the end of time.

As that time passed I noticed changes in myself. My skin took on a light reddish cast, neither heat nor cold bothered me and my body seemed to firm up. My wounds would heal almost as fast as I received them, and I began to feel the emotions of others. I was becoming as one with him, yet throughout all the changes I never forgot where I came from and how deeply I loved him. He was always my love, my friend and my god.

We were in Babylon watching the creation of the Hanging Gardens when he asked me whether I missed my home. The look I gave him was one of confusion. How could I miss my home when it was with him? He bade me close my eyes and picture my old home, the river and the old familiar landmarks, asking me to see myself standing there once more. I did as he asked, and for a moment the dizziness threatened to overwhelm me.

Holding my arm to steady me, he bade me open my eyes. I did so, and found myself standing on the banks of the river where my home had once stood. Turning around I saw the huts of my childhood were long gone and no one was to be seen. Looking at him I was confused, and not a little hurt as though it was his fault. What had happened to my family, my tribe? I looked around again, this place had once been my home, but where were the people I loved so dearly?

He taught me two lessons that day. The first was that if I knew a place well I could close my eyes and return there whenever I chose. But that was secondary to my main lesson, that my time span was now different to that of mere mortals. To me it seemed as though we'd been on the road for a matter of days, a few weeks at the most. Yet more than two hundred years had passed since I'd shed my robes so willingly and followed his dusty footsteps away from this, the village of my birth.

All the people I'd once known and cared for were long gone to dust. It should have troubled me more than it did, but I'd made my life with him and as long as I could be beside him I cared little for anyone else. This I told him, and learned my third lesson.

Before my very eyes he disappeared, though I could hear his voice as plain as day. 'Come to me my sweet,' he was saying. My knees went weak when I heard his words, it was the first time he'd ever used a pet name for me. I could sense him, to the northeast and close, but I couldn't see him. I walked towards where I felt he must be, reaching out to him with my arms but I couldn't find him. All night I searched in vain, the first night I'd spent alone since he'd chosen me. When morning came, I felt no closer to him than I'd done during the night; unable to understand how I could hear him so clearly yet not be able to touch him nor even see him.

He broke into my thoughts, asking whether I was ready to come to him or not. I could see him in my mind; he was smiling as he posed the question. 'How can I get to you other than by walking?' I asked, not expecting an answer. 'Close your eyes my love and step forward into my arms,' was his reply. I could almost feel his fingers reaching out and closing my eyes as I stood there, wanting to feel his arms around me, his lips on mine. He had never called me 'love' before and, at his use of the word I thought my heart would burst from joy.

The texture of the ground beneath my feet changed from sand to grass, but this time the change took place without the dizziness I'd felt before. When I opened my eyes he was standing in front of me on the slope of an alpine meadow, surrounded by fresh grass and edelweiss. It was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen and, running into his arms I tasted his lips on mine and felt the depth of his love for me. Looking up at him I smiled and asked him why it was we walked everywhere.

He replied with a smile of his own, before bending down and picking a small white flower from the meadow at our feet. Handing it to me he explained that if we traveled like that everywhere we would miss out on the little things, and besides why should we rush when we had until the end of time.

Through the centuries we traveled I met the many races of man that dwelt here on our planet. Even more surprising was meeting the other races; the ones who prefer to stay hidden. From the drinkers of blood that chose to roam the earth in the dark of night to those who could change at will into other beasts. There were races of small people, now called gnomes, who dwell among the trees of the great north woods. I was introduced to all manner of beast, though of those the horned horse, the unicorn that dwelt in the deepest forests was the most beautiful of all.

Once while sitting on a cliff face watching the serf crashing in and out he spoke to me of feeding. He explained that there were three ways to gain nourishment. The first was by eating human food. This food would fill but be bland to the pallet. The second was by taking nourishment through blood. Again this food would fill but it while better then human food was still bland to the pallet. The third way was through the absorption of sexual energy, and this was the way immortals were meant to feed. With that he turned and told me it was time for me to complete my transformation and earn my wings.

We walked south for a time and came to a small fishing village. The people, both men and women at the sight of us were ecstatic and a great feast was prepared for our welcome. We sat that night in a long house feasting. Everyone from the chief to the youngest child was in attendance. Even to me, who couldn't speak their language, it seemed clear they knew of us and had expected our arrival.

After the feasting was done I noticed that the children were taking the babies away and leaving the adults. He stood then and taking my hand leads me up to where we were standing on top of the great table. Without one single word he spread his arms and all of the humans started a great orgy. The sensation of their combined pleasure began to wash over me like a tidal wave; my legs shook and if he had not been there to support me I would have fallen.

With my eyes closed I spread my arms as he had done and, using his language, the language of the gods, I begged them to give me more. As I did so, the intensity of their copulating picked up noticeably, becoming more frantic with each word I spoke. Mere words couldn't come close to express what this manner of feeding meant to me. While it filled one hunger, it also sparked another, a need to know this feeling again and again. It felt as though my body was being pleasured by hundreds, no, thousands of people at the same time.

Opening my eyes again I looked at him. He was standing there, maintaining my balance with a hand resting on my arm. There was a strange look on his face, a mixture of ecstasy and concern; but more surprising still was the pair of great, leathery, dark red wings that hovered over us, vibrating gently. As I watched them, open-mouthed I caught the slight movement of his eyes that caused me to look up and over my shoulder. There, hovering above me was my very own pair of red wings, somewhat lighter in color than his had been. Somehow this excited me more; a sensation that must have been picked up by the humans surrounding us as the orgy around us rose to a frantic pitch. Turning, I took him into my arms; our wings brushed against each other as we made love on the center of the table, heedless of the mass of copulating humans.

At some point I must have passed out, because when I recovered my senses, he and I were alone in the hall. My first thought was 'give me more, don't ever stop.' But that passed quickly when I looked down at his head resting on my chest. Were it not for the great love I held for him I might have been tempted to set myself up as a love goddess as his first changeling had done. Reaching out, I stroked his face gently. His eyes opened to my first touch and he looked up at me.

I knew at once he hadn't been sleeping. He'd been waiting to see whether I'd leave him. I kissed my fingers, touched them to his lips, and whispered the words that were filling my mind, 'I love you.' From that moment on, whenever he spoke to me, he would refer to 'our' kind, and 'our' race rather than his. I had been transformed and become one of his kind.

When we left the village next day I noticed that no one paid any attention to our passing. I even found myself wondering whether the wings had also been a dream because they weren't there now. When I asked him about them, his response was a playful one. 'What wings?' he asked, and even as he spoke they appeared on his back. Once he'd had his joke, he told me to imagine the wings on my back and feel them as they caught the wind. I did as he suggested and looked up to see my own wings hovering above me.

He went on to explain how the wings helped our kind to feed on sexual energy. They weren't exactly necessary, but they helped us catch more. He used the analogy of a fisherman who, rather than catch his fish with a spear, one at a time, could scoop up a whole school of fish when using a net. One interesting point he made was that the more intense the experience for the human, the more we were able to feed.

It was only a matter of time before the Holy Roman Church took notice of our activities. With our huge, red wings unfurled above us as we fed, and our use of sexual emotions and arousal to assuage the hunger that burned within, we were hardly inconspicuous. It was a natural reaction to brand us as demon spawn, and come to call me by the name of succubus. Taken from the Latin word succubae, the word meant prostitute and, for some reason I always found that funny. Perhaps we brought it on ourselves, but what better place was there for us to find the depths of repressed sexual energy we needed than in the monasteries and nunneries of the Middle Ages?

It was in the late seventeenth century when my world changed again. We traveled to the far west of the Emerald Island where we watched the waves crashing against the rocky Cliffs of Moher. For a long time we sat there not exchanging a word. His eyes were distant, looking at something I couldn't see and a place I'd never been. After two days of staring out at the sea I was becoming concerned. While there'd been times in the past when he'd fall into a black mood, he'd always snapped out of it after a short time. By the time he turned and looked at me on the evening of the second day I cried. I could feel the sadness in his heart and knew what was coming, what he was going to ask of me.

'Please no, I can't,' they were the first words spoken between us in two days. My heart was breaking as I begged him not to leave. Taking my hands in his he let me feel the weight of the millennia he'd walked the face of the earth, hoping against hope that one day rescue would come. I'd been his companion for a mere five thousand of those years, a mere drop of water in that ocean of time. The crush of those long years broke my heart and I found myself unable to refuse his wishes.

We made love atop the cliffs, accompanied only by the roar of the surf and the lonely wailing of the gulls. As we did so I ripped open his wrists and drank of his blood. Every time they healed I would reopen the wounds and drink more. Finally, his heart stopped, and his body lay as if dead. Cradling his head in my lap, I still could feel his mind reaching out to mine, his every thought fully open to me. As I held him and ran my hands through his hair I spoke of the love I felt for him until darkness took his mind and he finally died.

And when he was gone I sat beside him for an age, wanting to go with him. Without him beside me I didn't wish to continue my journey alone. I could still hear the echo of his voice inside my head, telling me to get up and go on in case the ship came back. Then I could tell them what had happened to their people. How could I refuse his wishes from beyond death? I dug his grave atop the rugged Cliffs of Moher with my bare hands and left him there. On the rock I placed at his head I carved these words - 'Marius: scientist, friend and lover. I will love you to the end of time.'